


Duckie

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Charmione, Dragons, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Treasure Hunt, Unspeakable Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-11 05:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: **COMPLETE**Duckie: A British term of endearment for someone innocent that you would like to have your wicked way with.---A Charmione Adventure.





	1. Of Dragons and Ducks

**A/N: Endless thanks to my alpha and beta for this piece (and yes she did both because she is the QWEEEEN!) MHCalamas. My girl just posted Chapter 1 of an amazing short story titled Woven, so close this tab and go read that instead. I assure it is far better. (All remaining errors are surely mine and I shamefully claim them as my own.)**

  


**Hope you like this little mamma jamma I came up with.**

  


**I was given prompts for this by Frecklesandbroomsticks and Mamapotterhead2492. I'll include them at the end of the story to avoid spoilery type things – but thank you for the inspo loves!**

  


**Xoxo!**

* * *

 

“Stupid, no good, rotten Weasley.” With a cough, Hermione clutched at her bruised abdomen, her hands and face were caked with dirt and ash and if she listened hard enough, she thought her breathing might be a bit haggard. “By far my least favorite Weasley,” she reasoned with a firm twitch of her neck, wincing at her strained muscles.

 

The cave she found herself in was monstrous to the point of overwhelming with countless tunnels branching into innumerable possible paths. There was a constant thrumming of water from somewhere in the caverns and the dank, musky smell clung heavy in the air. As she rested her bruised head against the stone wall, her eyes flickered closed and she remembered just how in the world this all started.

 

* * *

 

Deep within the stony cavern was said to be a long abandoned dragon’s treasure; a local myth that had spread its way to British Ministry of Magic. In theory, Hermione had had enough intimate experiences with legends, tales, and dragons to last a lifetime; however, it was here, in the Department of Mysteries, that she heard them. She felt them: the tornado of whispers.

 

‘Rumors’, really. Caught up magically much like a taboo, when certain phrases were spoken, those words ended up there, circling in and around each other in an endless loop until someone cataloged and recorded them.

 

The information was barely used, stored in a room of vaulted ceilings with rows and rows of shelves of glass orbs like the Prophecy Room.

 

The young Unspeakable with the incredible honor of sifting through the rumors was none other than Hermione Granger. She abhorred the work: tedious and never-ending. Had she not been bound by an extensive magical contract, she imagined she’d had resigned already.

 

It was any normal day, pulling whispers from the towering funnel when one caught her ear.

 

_“Alright, darling. Sleep now.”_

 

_“Mummy, tell me the story of the_ Tesarul! _Puhleeease,” a small ghosted voice pleaded and she could hear a motherly murmur an agreement with a chuckle._

 

_“Okay, but quickly, quickly. It’s far past your bedtime,_ fluturas _.”_

 

_Hermione gave an exhaustive sigh, resting her cheek in her palm and ready to push the whisper into an orb and off to a shelf on childhood fables when she recognized term_ ‘Tesarul’.

 

She picked up her wand and scratched the letters into the air and with a lazy translation charm she watched as the letters melted into Romanian: Treasure.

 

_“During the first great war, bad guys were closing in quickly on the borders of Romania our government gathered all of our treasure.”_

 

_“What kinds of treasure?” the child asked in a rush, words tumbling over each other._

 

_“Gold bars that filled carriages, rubies and emeralds of the Romanian royal family, stacks of gold coins, and tiaras fit for the finest princesses in the world. There were diamonds the size of your fist, chests overflowing with ornate goblets, and priceless paintings._

 

_“But the most important of all – magic.”_

 

_“Magic?” the child repeated in awe._

 

_A humming laugh, “Yes_ drogosto mea _, this is how we lost our magic. You see, before the Great War, we had wonderful and old magic in our country. It flowed through the souls of our people and we were capable of many wonderful things.”_

 

_“Did they have wands? Like the fairies in my books?”_

 

_“No, no, dearest one; our magic was unlike any other.”_

 

_“Why did they hide the magic, Mummy?”_

 

_“The bad guys were coming and they hated those that were different. Our leaders became so fearful that they would do something to us in an attempt to steal our magic; they sent a stone into each magical village. This stone had the power to absorb our magic, keeping it safe until the threat and the bad guys were gone. We hid these stones with the rest of the treasure, waiting until the time was right to reclaim our magic.”_

 

_“But, what happened then, Mummy?”_

 

_“The treasure was hidden in a cave near Tismana. Unable to move it to our allies, we were forced to guard it closer to home. As the war ended, great men attempted to pull the treasure from the cave, and a giant winged dragon settled upon the cave, claiming the treasure for his own and hoarding it from the men sent to reclaim it.”_

 

_“Even the magic stones?”_

 

_“Especially, the magic stones. Dragons need magic to survive, dear one. And as the years pass, magic is hard to find. The dragon needs those stones to live now.”_

 

_“Why don’t we just go to the cave and fight the dragon?”_

 

_“Dragon’s imbued with magic can’t be seen by those without it. The men who left the cave that day were unable to find it again, leaving with only a few carriages of gold. The rest of the treasure has never been found again and the story remains that the train holding the other half of the treasure went missing. But we know, don’t we?” The mother whispered in conspiracy. “We know that you were born with magic in your soul and that someday, someone will find those stones and return it to you.”_

 

The story faded, but its message struck something deep within Hermione; a chord that thrummed in her veins. If there was even a chance this legend was true...

 

With a fierce flick of her wrist, she trapped the whispers in an orb and stomped off to her supervisor.

 

* * *

 

“I just don’t think we can feasibly send out our own forces to try to reclaim hypothetical magical stones guarded by an unlikely dragon based on a child’s bedtime story. Sorry, Granger.” Senior Unspeakable Baker wasn’t exactly a pleasant man, however, he wasn’t unpleasant either. He tittered the line of tolerable. His face was round and pink, a full mustache gracing his upper lip while the top of his head was so utterly hairless and obnoxiously shiny that Hermione, on more than one occasion, swore she saw her own reflection.

 

She slapped her palms on his desk, her hair tumbling about her shoulders in a frenzy. “We have to. What if it’s real? There could be hundreds of witches and wizards without their magic. It’s their birthright; we can’t ignore that!” Couldn’t he see they had to at least try? Had he already forgotten that it wasn’t so long ago that people had wanted to strip her of her own magic? Something so intrinsically part of her that it would be peeling away layers of her skin and muscle, rendering her a skeletal shell.

 

“Their government can handle it.” Her boss waved her off, swiveling in his chair, and flipping through a file that rested on his bloated belly.

 

It seemed he had.

 

But not Hermione. Filled with uncharacteristic defiance, she grabbed the edge of his chair and turned him back around. “They can’t, sir. They’re absolutely right – Muggles can’t see dragons. If they’ve lost their magic, how are they supposed to find this cave?”

 

With a bored yawn, he leaned back in his chair. “Who is running their dragon sanctuary.”

 

“We are!” She stamped her foot with a little huff. “Romania was chosen for its countryside, not because of its magical dynasty. The Romanian Ministry is small, almost obsolete, and no muggles would even be able to find their ministry to ask.”

 

There was a long moment of silence, while his lips pursed together unpleasantly and he rested his hand on his rounded torso.

 

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’m not paying you per diem, though. And don’t even think about asking for hazard pay.” Baker pointed a stubby finger at her face and her eyes went wild in disbelief.

 

With a near maniacal grin, she turned on her heel and made her way back to her funnel of rumors in the back of the Department of Mysteries. Those rumors would simply not sort themselves.

 

* * *

 

After the war, she prayed for a quiet life, there’d been enough excitement to last her for years to come. One year bled into the next and the endless funnel of rumors kept her mind blank and bored, she had felt that familiar twitch in her belly again.

 

Arriving in Romania with only a small pack on her back and wanderlust swirling in her soul, she was ready for another adventure. Having spent the last few weeks pouring over Romanian maps and history texts regarding the lost treasure, she eagerly awaited meeting with her guide and beginning the hunt for the Romanian treasure.

 

Little was recorded regarding its whereabouts. Only one of the trains carrying less than half of the treasure had arrived at the Kremlin in WWII; the rest had mysteriously vanished and the people of Romania seemed quick to forget.

 

Hermione couldn’t stomach the fact that there was an entire generation of young magical children that would never know the awe and wonder she felt when her wand choose her. They’d never feel the familiar jolt when her magic pulsed through her fingertips; the awe when they transfigured something for the first time or lit a room with the power of a lumos.

 

So, here she was, determined and prepared to return the magic to the people of Romania, even if that meant sneaking past one pesky little dragon.

 

Her portkey landed her at a small outpost outside of the dragon sanctuary in the hills of Romania. Had a Muggle stumbled across it, they might think it was a campsite, but as she stepped inside the largest and most central tent, the space expanded into a sprawling office. The canvas covered room was littered with messy desks, sans their owners and cork boards pinned with notes, maps and drawings.

 

“Hermione Granger?” A young pale girl with a thick Irish accent purred, her freckled cheeks pulling up in a smile.

 

“That’s me. I’m here to meet with my guide, I think his name is –”

 

“Charlie Weasley.” His smug voice surprised her and her polite smile faded instantly as a pair of thick arms wrapped around her shoulders. With a squeak from her lips, he lifted her effortlessly, her back to his chest and spun her around once. His laughter filled the tent and when he set her down, the world wobbled for a moment as she tugged her chambray shirt back down with a sneer.

 

“Oh,” she said with a displeased turn of her mouth. “Charlie. It’s nice to see you.” She was lying through her teeth. “But no, I think his name was Adam?”

 

“Wrong, Duckie.” Charlie beamed at her, running his hands through his wavy red hair when the fringe fell into his eyes.

 

Hermione fixed him with an annoyed glare, she loathed that nickname. The last few years, on the rare occasion she’d see him he would call variations of duck: duckie; duckling; little duck fuzzy duckling.

 

The Ugly Duckling: the tale of hideous little bird that finally turned into a beautiful swan.

 

So whenever Charlie Weasley whispered his term of endearment to her in passing, she had very quite nearly hexed his bollocks off.

 

“I’m sure his name is Adam,” she replied flatly. Her eyes flickered closed in annoyance but she turned back to the young lass and fixed her with a bright, albeit forced, smile.

 

Charlie stepped next to her, draping his arms over her shoulders and squeezing her until her breath felt tight. “Well, Ronnie would have my head if he knew I’d let you wander off in search of a dragon with Adam Barber,” he scoffed. “Bloke’s a tool. I’m taking you.”

 

Hermione turned, gaping – a scarlet flush creeping up her slender neck. “This mission is confidenti—”

 

“Right. Hunting for the lost Romanian treasure. I’ve been thoroughly vetted and briefed.” Charlie tufted with a lazy roll of his eyes, crossing his massive arms over his wide chest.

 

Hermione let out a low hiss and pressed her palm onto his pectoral muscle, slowly pushing him backward and away from the doey eyed girl at the desk. “This mission is top secret, I’ll have you know. It took me a lot of effort to make sure it goes off without a hitch and I won’t be having you bollocking it up to make a show for your little girlfriend over there.”

 

“Settle down, duckie. I have the proper clearance, I assure you. And for another thing, the lost Romanian treasure isn’t exactly as top secret as you seem to think it is,” he laughed.

 

Hermione took a deep, sobering breath, sucking the air in through her nose and pushing it harshly past her lips. Her fingertips pressed deeply into her temples, fighting off an impending headache. “I suppose there is no chance that Adam Barber is still available?”

 

“‘Fraid not, duckie.” His perfect white teeth gleamed at her.

 

“Have I made it clear how much I hate that nickname?” she asked with a pointed stare.

 

“You have.”

 

“And yet, you insist on calling it?”

 

“I do.” He grinned. “Duckie.” Charlie tagged on the end with a wink. Hermione felt her cheeks flush and her nerves swarmed in her belly for a moment.

 

“You’re insufferable. But, if you’re the only guide I have…”

 

With a smug smile, he held his arms out wide for her and her face crumpled. Before she could consent or move away he wrapped her in another bone-crushing hug, her toes lifting ever so slightly off the floor.

 

Setting her down roughly, he gave her a playful shove on the shoulder. “This way, love. We’ve got a long drive.”

 

With a resigned hang of her head, she trudged towards the back of the massive tent, hearing a mumbled, “Lucky bint,” as she passed the clearly offended girl.

 

Hermione’s jaw dropped at the ostentatious vehicle they would be driving in. Its tires went up to Hermione’s waist and a caging perched overtop, a cheap attempt at protecting them in the event of a turnover.

 

“I don’t think your girlfriend appreciates you being so touchy with me,” Hermione chastised, as Charlie relieved her of her pack and tossed it haphazardly into the back.

 

“Who? Elise?” His brows quirked innocently as he strolled around the far side to where Hermione was attempting to climb up into the cabin. His rough hands gripped her hips and gave her a quick shove, and she fell face first, arse up into her seat with a graceful hrmph.

 

With a huff and a scowl, she straightened herself in her seat while Charlie climbed gracefully into the driver’s seat. “The girl who was staring daggers at me.”

 

“Elise and I are not dating. Not even close.”

 

“She seems a bit possessive.”

 

“Well, I did shag her once.” Charlie shrugged, confessing it so offhandedly that Hermione’s jaw dropped and a blush stained her cheeks.

 

“Charlie!” she admonished with the tail of a laugh.

 

“Alright, enough chatter about my love life. We’ve got a good five-hour drive.” Her companion hollered over the roar of the vehicle coming to life.

 

“Why aren’t we Apparating?”

 

“Never been there.”

 

“Why not a Portkey?”

 

“That’s not how things work in the Romanian Ministry.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Bloody fuck, are you going to interrogate me the entire time? I would love to travel magically and not get my arse bruised on these shitty roads, but it’s not an option. If it were an option, we’d be there already. So settle your pretty little arse down and go with it.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the incorrigible wizard. Charlie Weasley was everything about Gryffindor that she really detested. He was loud and crass, boisterous and smug. Regardless of his less shiny qualities, he was talented and quick, almost instinctual with his movements and would be more than proficient as her guide. Still, it was his inflated confidence and it grated her nerves.

 

“How’s my family doing?” he asked now that the roar of their car had dulled to a soft rumble.

 

“Everyone’s doing good. No complaints. Your mom is excited about Ginny and Harry’s wedding this spring, Harry and Ron made Auror – though no one is surprised about that. Bill brings the kids by often, they’re getting big.”

 

Hermione swore his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel briefly but didn’t mention it. She asked instead: “Are you enjoying your work here?”

 

“Never a dull moment,” he smirked over his arm at her, his eyes trailing over her legs for a moment before returning to the road. Hermione snorted but didn’t remark on it further. “Do you want to tell me your exhaustive and probably over thought out plan?”

 

Her brows knitted together as she pulled a folder from her charmed bag. Over the following hour, she filled any gaps his briefing may have left out, not leaving out a single detail from her meticulous research. Based on what she could tell of the local mountain ranges where the treasure was last said to have been kept, her best guess was the mouth of the cave had to be located along a twelve mile stretch of mountain; all that was needed was to find it.

 

“What techniques can you tell me about sneaking past the dragon?” Hermione withdrew her a pen and notebook, Muggle luxuries that she allowed herself, readying them to take notes.

 

“Techniques?” Charlie’s face pinched and a little noise escaped him. “Don’t die.”

 

“Brilliant. Truly. Did you attend a class where they taught all that invaluable knowledge?”

 

“Gods, duckie, you’re such a swot,” he groaned.

 

“Stop calling me that! It’s horribly rude, you know.”

 

“It’s a mighty compliment,” his eyes raked over her, lingering far too long and she let out an exasperated groan and tugged at the hem of her shorts.

 

“Just tell me what you plan to do to get past the dragon,” she said.

 

He shrugged and poured a handful of trail mix in his mouth, speaking as he chewed. “We have no idea what kind of dragon it is, so I can’t really tell you.”

 

This. This right here is why she couldn’t bloody stand Charlie Weasley.

 

“Would you, please, give me some survival tips if I am caught nose to nose with a Dragon? That was the purpose of securing a guide through your team.” The curly headed witch was quickly losing her patience and they were perhaps one hour into a journey that could easily last several days.

 

Charlie gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Dragons are big.”

 

“Yea, no shit,” she scoffed.

 

“I wasn’t done, duckling,” he snapped. “Now, Dragons are big, their field of vision is big and lucky for us, it’s not that sharp. They don’t focus on fine detail and instead take in a large picture. Keep your movements sharp and precise, methodological. Plan your footsteps and execute them perfectly.” Hermione winced, precision in the physical arena was not her fortitude. “Dragons are greedy and protective beasts. What they consider theirs, is theirs forever. Oh, and watch out for their bloody tails. People are so afraid of their flames that they rarely pay attention to their backsides. You’d be surprised how little a dragon will use their fire, they are far quicker to end their foes with a snap of their tail.”

 

“Really?” Hermione’s entire body had turned to him, her eyes wide as she flicked her gaze from her notepad to Charlie.

 

“Their slow, that’s what we have to our advantage. A dragon in a cave? Even slower. They have limited movement and we don’t. But if I tell you to move, move. If I tell you to run, fucking run, duckie. Hesitation could be the very real difference between life and death.”

 

Hermione gulped, the gravity of this assignment she volunteered for sinking in. Her eyes flickered down Charlie’s muscular forearms; a long silvery scar stretching from inside his shirt down to his hands. There was also a smattering of matching scars along his neck.

 

“Ridgeback,” he said with a smug chuckle. “She was injured in the wild and it didn’t look like she was going to make it. My partner and I were sent out to retrieve her – dragon wasn’t quite keen on the idea.” His lips pulled up into a charming smile and he ran his free hand through his tousled hair.

“What happened?”

 

“Emily was knocked out cold – hit by a Ridgebacks tail, like a dumbass. I got to her fast as I could but the Ridgeback was too anxious. She turned her flames on and blasted the pair of us, I got a charm up but not before she charred my back.”

 

“What?” Hermione paled, eyes widening in horror.

 

“Yep. Happy ending though, Emily made a full recovery and so did the Ridgeback. She was released back into the wild last year and I swear I still see her flying over our camp from time to time. She was a big softie once she had healed up a bit.”

 

The corner of Hermione’s mouth twitched up in a surprising smile. There was something almost endearing hearing Charlie talk about his work. Of course, theoretically, she knew he loved his job – how could he not? He chose to leave his family and friends behind in London to chase down Dragons. And, as if for the first time, she caught this air about him, a pride in his work.

 

The rest of their journey alternated between stretches of silence and arguments about their plan, or lack thereof.

 

As the late afternoon light softened, they came over one last hill and the vast mountains of the Romanian countryside broke into view. Hermione gasped, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the dash just so she could be inching closer.

 

They found a place near the foothills and Hermione gripped the bar overhead and pulled herself to standing, stretching the sleep and travel from her limbs. Her eyes drifted down to catch what appeared to be Charlie Weasley admiring the length of her limbs and the inch of exposed tummy and she snapped her arms to her side. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

 

“Just… admiring the view, duckie.” He smirked and pulled himself up. “Say, if you forgot your tent, mine’s not quite big enough for two, but I’d happily make an exception for you. I’m sure we could find something to keep us warm through the night.”

 

With a soft pop Hermione’s jaw fell open, her chocolate eyes round as she stared at him

 

“Are you certifiably insane?” she asked,  disbelieving and incredulous.

 

He answered with a shrug and hopped down, rounding the front of the truck and opening her door. He opened his arms to her, and she scoffed.

 

“Not likely. Nice try, Charlie,” she rolled her eyes and turned to climb down backward.

 

“Fine. Be my guest.” He gestured with a wry chuckle, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

 

Her boot couldn’t quite find the step and it left her bent in half, her hands still clinging to the railing and her arse sticking out. She heard another chuckle from behind her and she straightened slightly, her eyes narrowing at the rugged wizard behind her who was inspecting her body in it’s exposed position.

 

“You are not funny. Turn around,” she commanded.

 

“Stop being so stubborn. I’ll help you down, it’s not that far anyway.”

 

He reached up to grip her hips again and she yelped, trying to swat him away. Hermione lost her already precarious balance and her wrist gave out. She tumbled backward, while Charlie’s arms reached out to catch her. He was unable to bear the sudden weight, and just barely broke her fall as they tumbled in a heap onto the soft dirt.

 

“Merlin’s sack, duckie,” Charlie groaned, coming up on his hands to create a cage over her. “Are you satisfied now? Glad you’re not a damsel in distress?”

 

“Oh, shut up,” she sneered and shifted slightly, realizing that he was on top of her, his knee delicately between her thighs.

 

“Well, it’d be a shame to waste a good opportunity, wouldn’t it? I mean, I’d almost dare to say this is fate.” His playful yet heated gaze roamed over her face, and down the column of her throat.

 

“You’re a rotten flirt, Charlie Weasley.” She glared at him and gave him a hard shove so that he rolled onto his back, laughing.

 

“One of these days, I’m going to find a line that works on you, duckie.” He smiled up at her from the dirt, his hands folded on his broad chest.

 

“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered, summoning her pack. “Actually, I take that back. Do. Do hold your breath.”

 

With a bellowing laugh, he rolled up on his haunches and summoned his own pack.

 

Within an hour their camp was coming along nicely, two small tents on opposite sides of a fire pit and a small stream just a couple of meters away providing fresh water and the stretch of mountain range they were going to be searching spread out for several kilometers on either side.

 

“So, in the morning,” Charlie began, hunched over a map on a transfigured table, “I say we start heading up this way. I think the shape of the range in this direction is really going to make more sense for a dragon to inhabit. It’s too shallow here.” His finger trailed along the lines of the map and his bicep brushed hers and she tensed at the contact. He must have sensed it because his clear blue eyes flickered up to hers, traveling briefly to stare at her lips. There was the briefest moment of electrified tension and Hermione let her eyes examine his lips as well. They weren’t full but they weren’t thin, either. They were always pulled into a devilish curve and now was no exception, just as he moved a breath closer, she broke the trance.

 

“I need to pee!” Heat stained her cheeks in the aftermath of her outburst, while Charlie’s crooked smile grew.

 

“Okay, duckie.” He chuckled with a shake of his head, returning to the cluster of maps and notes in front of them.

 

She turned on her heel, eyes rolling back in her head at her insipid excuse. On the brink of mortification, she marched off into the treeline – she didn’t even have to piss, for goodness sake.

 

Leaning against the first sturdy tree she came along, she attempted in vain to calm her wandering mind. She’d be stupid to try and convince herself that Charlie Weasley wasn’t an attractive wizard. There wasn’t a witch alive who would look at him and say that he wasn’t. He had a square jaw, covered in a rough, scarlet stubble that travelled down to his thick neck. Seriously, who had neck muscle?

 

It was his eyes, really, crystal blue and fringed with thick lashes, or maybe it was his hair, always perfectly messy and hanging into his eyes.

 

But all that was negated by his abhorrent and obnoxious behavior. Right?

 

Plus he was a bit older, maybe too old. While they were both in their twenties, they were on very opposite ends of the spectrum and the notion that he was flirting, with any other intent other than to watch the ugly duckling fidget, was preposterous.

 

Still, her mind wandered, just because he was far too old to date, didn’t mean that… other arrangements were off limits. She was, after all, a woman with physical needs… urges, even. Urges that hadn’t been indulged in a very, very long time.

 

She pressed her thighs together as the thought of letting Charlie sprawl her over their work desk sprang into her vision and she slammed her lids shut, driving her palms into her eye sockets in a cheap attempt to rid herself of the sight.

 

“You’re being completely ridiculous,” she chastised herself and returned towards their quiet camp. “And you’re not doing anything nefarious with Charlie Weasley.”

 

With a renewed resolution she marched back to the campsite and froze mid-step as her jaw fell open.

 

Charlie-bloody-Weasley. Shirtless.

 

His wide shoulders tapered into a thin, chiseled waist. Deep cuts in his hips disappeared into the waistband of his rugged khakis and her mouth shamefully watered.

 

He was doing it on purpose. She was absolutely positive.

 

There was something quite striking about the sheer masculinity he exuded painted against the ridges of the Romanian mountainside. “There’s my duckling,” he purred, noticing her in the clearing and her face flattened in severe annoyance as she resumed her step.

 

“Don’t call me that. Also, put your shirt on, it’s unprofessional.”

“Ah, rules like that don’t exist in this line of work, duckie. Besides, it’s bloody hot.”

 

“It’s just as hot for me and yet you don’t see me—” Hermione ceased speaking as Charlie's eyes flashed with some dirty thought. “Nevermind.” Hermione laughed as her red-headed companion trailed after her.

 

“You know, you’re right. Maybe it’s not appropriate if I’m the only one topless. Maybe it should be a campwide rule?”

 

“Let me think about it.”

 

“Really?” His voice rose a few octaves and Hermione rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“ _No_. No, not really. Do you think I’m going to work with my shirt off? Did you honestly think that was going to happen?”

 

Charlie grumbled something unintelligible and when he pressed past her, Hermione noticed for the first time the intricate webbing of scars on his back.

 

With a startled gasp, her fingers flew to cover her mouth. “Merlin! Your back!”

 

Charlie had resumed his hunching over their work desk and paused only to peeked back over his shoulder. With an unimpressed pout, he shrugged and returned his eyes to the maps laid out on the table.

 

“This is from the Ridgeback?” Her voice was breathy, almost hollow. Hermione was a woman possessed as her fingers raised to trace along swirling scar spreading down his back, noticing the gooseflesh that spread across the skin not marred.

 

The scar was beautiful, almost as if it had been purposefully engraved into his flesh and she watched, entranced, as his shoulders shook. The action reminded her of a dog getting their belly rubbed and she snapped her fingers back as she came to her senses.

 

“I’m sorry.” She blinked. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

 

He turned slowly, and she swore his eyes were a darker blue then they had been a moment ago, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at her. “You don’t have to stop there, duckie.”

 

She should be saying something now. Any minute now. Something sharp and quippy would come to her mind and she’d spew it at him like bitter acid. Until then, she was studiously examining with the soft crimson curls of his chest hair spread over his hard chest and her words were gone.

 

With a gulp, she attempted to come to her senses. “What were we talking about?” She peeked up at him through her lashes and watched as a satisfied smirk pulled at his lips.

 

“I think the last thing you’d said was you had to take a piss.”

 

Her eyes narrowed and the moment burst as she stepped back. “Accio shirt.” His well worn ivory cotton shirt flew to her palm and she shoved it at his chest, his silken chuckle filling the air of the campsite.

* * *

 

**A/N: Would love to know your thoughts! They mean the world to me. MWAH!**

  
  
  
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	2. Burned Broomsticks and Broken Ribs

The sun began its slow descent over the mountains and a chill spread through the night. Charlie started a fire with a swish of his wand and when she perched on a log, savouring it’s warmth, he plopped down on the soft earth next to her. 

 

“How’s work?” Charlie asked, a bite of his sandwich rolling around in his mouth.

 

“I can’t tell you about work,” Hermione replied tersely. 

 

“Well, you could just be polite and say it’s going well,” he snorted.

 

Hermione frowned before taking a dainty bite of her own meal. “Fine. It’s going well.Why don’t you come home more often?” Hermione challenged with a severe raise of her brow. 

 

Charlie didn’t answer; he just stared at the fire as it licked the air in front of them. She could feel the heat from his shoulder against her shin but she didn’t shy away from it. 

 

“Everyone misses you like crazy. Molly’s always grumbling about not seeing you enough—”

 

“Let me guess, that’s where your list ends,” he said, still staring out in front of them as he gnawed on his dinner. 

 

Hermione knew too well the feeling of being left behind when everyone else had moved on. Loneliness was a constant companion these days, combined with exasperations that came with  being the newest Unspeakable. Not to mention the endlessly plaguing nostalgia; it had all led her to  _ this _ campsite tucked into the foothills of the Romanian Mountainside.

 

With a thick swallow, she responded, “Of course not, everyone misses you.”

 

He scoffed. “They barely notice I’m gone. Billy didn’t even tell me he’d had the baby for almost a week.” Charlie spoke with a tight jaw, tension rippling across his shoulders.

 

“Things are just different now. Everyone still loves you.” She nudged her leg playfully against his shoulder, and it could have been her imagination, but it seemed some of  the heaviness disappeared, swept up in the fire and carried away by the wind. 

 

“Well, who wouldn’t?” His unmistakable arrogant tone had returned and he turned to smirk up at her. “After all, captain of the quidditch team, dragon tamer, passionate lover—”

 

Hermione supplied an over exaggerated gag. “Why are you perpetually irritating me?”  

 

“Because you’re my duckie.”

 

“I stand by my previous sentiments when I reiterate that that particular term of endearment is really quite rude.” 

 

Charlie choked on the final bite of sandwich, eyeing her suspiciously. “In what world could ‘duckie _ ’ _ be perceived as rude?”

 

“Telling someone they used to be ugly but have since turned attractive isn’t exactly the most romantic way of getting into my knickers.”

 

His brows tugged together and he turned to face her. “That’s not what Duckie mea—”

 

Charlie was cut off by a shrill shriek piercing the night. A vibrant flame erupted from a peak just to the north and a shadowed beast took off into the sky. Hermione clung to Charlie’s back, flattening against him as he seemed to take an instinctive protective stance, his arm wrapping and pulling her to him.

 

“What was that?” she panted, pressing deeper into him as they studied the cliffs. 

 

“That was our dragon.” Charlie released her, and with a sense of purpose, rushed to the maps and summoned a self-inking quill. 

 

Hermione followed, knocking into him as she came up next to him and watched him mark an X near the range on the map where the flame had come from. 

 

“It’s a little higher up than I would have imagined, so it’s good she came out to eat.”

 

“ _ She _ ?” Hermione arched a brow and peeked over at him. He didn’t answer immediately, seemingly lost in the papers laid out before him, and when he popped the quill between his teeth, Hermione couldn’t suppress the flutter in her ribs. 

 

“They’re all a she until proven otherwise,” he muttered, sliding his fingers along the base of the mountains on the map. “I think it’s safe to assume there’s a trail, but we’ll be blind most of the day tomorrow. We should get some sleep for now, if we can.” 

 

“How do we know she won’t come and  _ eat _ us in our sleep?” Hermione’s eyes swept the starry sky, searching for a set of wings that might fall down upon them and char them beyond recognition before daylight. 

 

Charlie’s strong hands wrapped around the tops of her arms, drawing her attention back to him. “Will it help you to know that if she  _ does _ decide to eat us, there’s nothing we can really do about it?”

 

Hermione's jaw went slack, a soft  _ pop _ sounding as her lips parted. “ _ Of course not— _

who on earth would find that reassuring?”

 

“I do.” He chuckled. “It’s not so scary to die if you have absolutely no say in it. I know I can fight my way out of most situations by hand or wand, but if I can’t, then there was never really any hope anyways.”

 

She studied him, something shifting and stirring inside her. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the feeling of impending doom… Maybe it was the way his fingers curled on her arms and his thumbs ran lazy tracks on her skin… But she found herself leaning into him, her breasts brushed his thinly veiled chest while her hands moved to rest on the flat expanse of his pecks. 

 

She breathed him in, finding he smelled like freshly cut grass and summer air, mixed with a trace of mint and spice. 

 

When she was able to tear her eyes from thick muscle spanning under his cotton shirt, she studied the lines of his jaw, the curve of his parted lips... And when they finally settled on his artic blue eyes, she was lost. 

 

It’d been too long and he was far too close and  _ gods _ ,  _ she just bloody wanted to _ . Her dainty hands slid to the too-long hair at the nape of his neck and twisted in his waves as she tugged his face down to meet hers. She swore he stole a final smirk before their lips met in a tentative first meeting; his hands sliding down from her elbows to her waist,  tugging her closer until her back arched into him. 

 

Charlie’s finger tips dug into her hips and she let out a soft moan as one of his hands traced down to grab a palmful of her arse, squeezing her flesh and swallowing the breathy little noise she made when their lips parted.

 

He wasted no time in dipping his tongue into her mouth and a surge of heat coursed through her body as his hands continued to roam about her almost reverently. His rough hands against her body felt like he was memorising her—  _ worshipping _ her. His burly hands squeezed her bum as he lifted her effortlessly and hitched her knees over his hips before dropping her unceremoniously onto the wooden table covered with their maps and field notes. 

 

Her palms flew out behind her, ready to steady herself as he tugged her hips towards the end of the table to meet his. She could feel his arousal press against the seam of her denim shorts and cursed under her breath at the delightful pressure. 

 

Thought and reason needed to return to her, and  _ very _ soon, or she was going to shagged on this table in a matter of moments. Charlie’s lips left hers and trailed down the taut lines of her throat, while he tugged at the sleeve of her shirt to expose her freckled shoulder to the night air. His hands slid to her thighs, gripping the creamy flesh there, while he pressed his hips into her again. Just as she felt heat radiate from her core and wet her knickers, her eyes flew open and she coughed loudly, stilling under his expert touch. 

 

Charlie responded immediately, his hands pulling away from her tingling skin, and Hermione  _ might _ have let out the softest of whimpers as he complied. 

 

He dropped his forehead to her bare shoulder, breathing heavily from the exertion of pausing his advances. 

 

Hermione gulped, her chest bumping into him as she panted. “We should sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day, right?”

 

Part of her wanted him to disagree, to tell her that nothing else in this world was more important that pressing inside her... But  he drew back, his eyes dancing with want, and she didn’t stop him. 

 

“Right. Sleep.” His husky voice reverberated through her as he stepped back from where he’d nestled himself between her thighs. 

 

Hermione did an ungraceful hop off the table and shifted on her feet for a few moments while standing under the weight of his stare. 

 

“Goodnight then.” 

 

Charlie smirked, taking a step closer and tucking a curl behind her ear. “My offer to share my tent stands, Duckie. In case it gets cold over there.” 

 

She gulped, turning on her heel and disappearing in her tent. Her thighs pressed together as she laid on her cot, fully dressed and desperately trying to avoid thinking of what might be waiting in the tent across the way. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione hid in her tent long after the sun had come up. The thought of seeing him after she had snogged him silly was enough to swallow every drop of her courage. 

 

“Duckie!” Charlie called brightly from a log near the fire, when she’d finally emerged, chin held high. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

 

She glowered, walking stiffly towards him. “So,” she began with a clipped,  _ professional _ tone. “We’re heading up to the mountains today.” Hermione snagged a muffin from the table where the maps had been laid out the night before and picked at the edges, popping the pieces between her lips. 

 

“Aye. We’ll save some time by going on broomstick, so eat up and we’ll head out.” Hermione coughed violently, chunks of blueberry muffin sputtering in the air, while Charlie watched on in obvious amusement. “Ronnie did mention you weren’t a fan of flying, but you’ll have to suck it up today.”

 

“I think you’re underestimating how truly awful I am at flying.”  Hermione gaped at him, imploring him to understand that they would be running a very real risk of her crashing into the side of the mountain before even reaching their destination. 

 

Charlie shrugged, extinguishing the fire and flourishing his wand through the air. “Luckily you don’t have to fly. I only have one broom.” He winked and an angry blush crept across her face as the camp disassembled around them. The tents folded in on themselves, the table legs collapsing and lanterns, maps and field notes stacked on top of each other and sorted themselves into a small rucksack, which he then shrunk and slid into his pocket. 

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the broad shouldered wizard in front of her. “Did you bring one broom on purpose?”

 

His lips curved slowly into a mischievous smirk. “Duckie, I’m affronted that you would accuse me of  _ purposefully _ only bringing one broom.” Charlie closed the distance between them until their chests were barely brushing against each other. “You think that  _ I _ would want  _ you _ nestled between my thighs, arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you into me until your arse is pressing against my—”

 

“ _ Charlie!” _ Hermione admonished, a trace of laughter in her voice as she shoved him away. 

 

He chuckled and summoned his broom wordlessly, tucking it between his legs and gesturing for her to take her seat between him. 

 

She gave him a withering sneer and moved to sit behind him instead. “I’ll ride from the back.” 

 

Charlie laughed and slid forward marginally, just enough for her to swing her leg over. “Have it your way, Duckie.” With a peek over her shoulder he said, “Hold on tight.” 

 

Hermione immediately realised her mistake as her hands slid around the hard planes of his torso, and her breasts rested pressed against his back. It was very possible that Charlie Weasley was far more intelligent than she ever gave him credit for. She could feel the vibration of his broom underneath her, and she steeled herself against the anxiety swelling inside her. 

 

He leaned forward, gripping the length of the broom in both hands and pushed off with far greater force than Hermione would deem necessary, launching them into the sky. Hermione yelped, the air rushing in ears, as she clung tighter to the wizard between her legs. 

 

“CHARLIE!” She shouted over the wind mixed with his riotous laughter. 

 

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he called over his shoulder, and Hermione found herself scooting even closer, her fingers digging into his sides as she buried her face in his back and closed her eyes. 

 

“I am on a treasure hunt looking for magical artifacts guarded by a dragon. Is that not adventure enough?”

 

The broom slowed and Hermione felt the knot of dread in her chest loosen. They rode for some time, and Hermione took in the expansive mountain range in quiet. It was breathtaking: rows and rows of trees set against an ominous sky, and the cloud cover was ominous, dark and thick with unshed rain. She could feel the weight of a thunderstorm not far off. 

 

“Eyes up, Duckie. The flames came from this ridge, so we need to see if we can spot the entrance to the cave. The dragon we saw last night was no baby, so the mouth of the cave will be visible from the air.” Hermione didn’t answer as he veered the broomstick to the left and she hugged him tighter.“I thought you were an Unspeakable. You seem rather skittish for having such a dangerous job.” 

 

“I think you gravely misunderstand what Unspeakables do. I know I sure did,” she grumbled.

 

Hermione felt a wave of courage as the broom began to make slow lazy circles above the treeline and she finally felt comfortable enough to loosen her hold on Charlie. 

 

“See there?” He sat tall and pointed towards a path of scorched earth curling through the dirt lined with a path of singed trees. “She’s been hunting here.” 

 

“So the cave must be close then?” Hermione studied the mark with a curious expression and Charlie tipped the broom down near the mark. 

 

“Not necessarily. Her wingspan is massive, she could be anywhere in a fifty mile radius – easily.” 

 

When they landed he let her dismount first and then he moved to kneel next to the scorch mark, studying clues that Hermione didn’t pretend to understand. 

 

“This,” he pointed the hard edge of the dip in the earth. “It’s not been blown away yet by the wind. See how sharp the lines of the scorch are? They lessen over time. She’s been here recently.”

 

A deep rumble of thunder rolled and Hermione felt a shiver run up her spine as she peeked over her shoulder. “How often do dragons eat?”

 

“Depends on the dragon… and on the meal.” He shrugged and pushed up to standing, letting the broom lay on where he kneeled. “A bear is a much bigger meal than a fox.”

 

“Bears?” Hermione blanched, tapping her wand in it’s holster just for the reassurance. 

 

“What did you think dragons were eating? Shepherd’s pie?” Hermione narrowed her glare at him, but Charlie blissfully ignored her ire and returned to studying the patterns in the dirt. “Alright, Duckling. Back aboard, we might find something just a bit higher up.”

 

A few moments later, they were back above the top of the trees, and suddenly the forest broke open into a sprawling valley. She’d never seen anything like it. Rolling green hills kissed the edges of steep mountains, peppered with pine trees and rocky edges. They traveled in quiet for near half an hour, and Hermione allowed her cheek to rest against his spine while she studied the landscape for clues. 

 

“We’re getting close,” Charlie murmured, he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing into slants as he examined the cliffside. There was more fire damage than there had been before and the cliffs were marked with deep tracks in sets of three – like a dragon had climbed them. 

 

A deafening screech filled the air and Hermione faltered on the broom when her hands abruptly left her guide and clawed at her ears. The balance of the broom was lost and she slipped hard to the left as she clawed at Charlie’s arm and he cursed through a tight jaw, catching and righting her as the shriek faded. The air whooshed loudly and Hermione could hear the flapping of what sounded like massive wings in the space around them, followed by another shriek. 

 

“What in the hell is that?” Hermione asked, gripping Charlie’s hips and whipping her face back and forth, her curls bouncing frantically. 

 

“That’s her.” She could  _ hear  _ the grin on his face; pure joy radiating from his voice and he pulled the broom hard towards the sound. There was something to be said about dragon tamers, Hermione decided. Not many people in their right mind would chase the beast that could move the air and burn the earth with such unadulterated happiness. 

 

“Charlie!” Hermione shouted, stabbing a finger over his shoulder as she noticed the wide entrance of a cave tucked into the ledge. 

 

“Keen eye, Duckie.” 

 

Hermione scowled and attempted to pinch his ribs but found he was lacking the necessary layer of fat in order to properly do so. 

 

“Hold tight, yeah? I’m gonna see how close we can get, but she’s awake. Might get a little hairy.” 

 

Hermione steeled her jaw and tucked closer into him, wrapping her arms around his impossibly lean waist. 

 

They approached the cave in a slow line, and Hermione saw the first flash of glittering treasure in its mouth moments before a massive flame erupted through the opening. Charlie swerved violently, pulling them vertical, nearly avoiding the fire. 

 

_ Nearly _ . 

 

Hermione felt the heat on her back but as they escaped the billowing fire, but it felt too close.

 

“Charlie! The broom!” 

 

He glanced back to see the back of his broomstick had caught fire and he cursed loudly as the broom began to sputter as he lost control. “It’s gonna be a hard landing,” he shouted over the dying roar of the flames and leveled the broom as they headed for a ledge on the side of the mountain. “Do you trust me?” he called over his shoulders, his brows low and worried over his blue eyes. 

 

She very quickly surveyed their situation and their impending crash into the rocks. “Do I have a choice?” 

 

“That’s my girl,” he shouted. “Jump when I say.” 

 

“Jump?” she howled. “You’re mad!” 

 

“Maybe! But I’m about to save your life. Now,  _ jump _ !” 

 

Hesitating only briefly, she spied the underbrush he was meaning for her to aim for and lurched from her spot on the broom. 

 

She slammed into the earth with a  _ huff _ ; the air crushed from her as she clawed at her chest, attempting to heave air into her useless lungs. Finally, as if a switch had been flipped, she could breath again and she sucked in greedy lungfuls.

 

A loud crash sounded and she could hear the moans of her partner nearby. After a quick assessment, she realised she had avoided major injury and her fingers dug into the dirt as she crawled towards Charlie. The branches of the underbrush scratched her skin, and she winced as she felt a few of them draw blood. 

 

“Charlie!” She shouted, only to be met with silence. Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for any sound to let her know he was okay. “Charlie Weasley! Answer me this minute!” 

 

A faint groan from behind a giant boulder sent hope rippling through her and she rushed towards the noise, limping slightly. “Fuck,” Charlie groaned. Rolling onto his side and clutching at his ribs. “Are you okay?” 

 

He had a gash on his brow, fresh blood leaking down the side of his face and several other superficial appearing wounds on his arms. 

  
“You idiot!” Hermione managed through her tears. She slid her arms under his and tried to get him to sit upright, but he hissed at the new position and fell to his side again. 

 

“I’m assuming you mean ‘charming hero’?”

 

“I assure you I mean idiot.” Hermione shook her head at the wreckless man before her and knelt at his side, withdrawing her wand. She frowned as she studied the diagnostic charm and she pursed her lips at him. “You’ve got three broken ribs, idiot.”

 

“You can’t call me that.” Charlies breath was labored and he relaxed until he was flat on his back and staring up at the angry rain clouds looming overhead.

 

Hermione hid a smile as she raised a challenging brow at him. “If you can call me ‘duckie’, I can call you ‘idiot’.” 

 

“Whatever you say, Duckie.” Charlie’s eyes fluttered closed, and he coughed, resulting in a visible wince that twisted something inside her. 

 

“I’m going to need to heal you. I’ll give you something for the pain and then get camp set up so you can rest and I’ll get you healed up. Deal?”

 

“I’m fine. Nothing for the pain. Just get it over with and I’ll help you with camp.” Charlie’s neck strained as he spoke and Hermione could see the thick tendons going tight under his effort. 

 

She considered his request with a worried brow before shaking her head and waving her wand, summoning the rucksack from his pocket. 

 

“Even after you’ve been healed, you shouldn’t do much strenuous activity, at least for tonight. This storm will be here sooner than I’d like and we need to get some kind of cover in place.”

 

As she spoke, thunder and lightning met dramatically in the sky. She hurried herself in preparing the campsite, focusing on the bare minimum so she could get him in and out of the drizzling rain. The cloud cover stole the light from the afternoon and as she finished getting the first of the tents in place, the heavens opened and a heavy rainfall soaked them through. 

 

Hermione hollered as she hurried her pace, her curls running long lines down her back now that they were drenched. Charlie remained unphased, laying in the mud, watching her move frantically, slicing her wand in the air to expand the sole tent and then turning it on him. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Hermione yelled over the steady thrumming of the rain. “This is really going to hurt.  _ Mobilicorpus.”  _

 

She winced as Charlie growled profanities, and his body hovered through the flap in the tent. Depositing him on the cot she’d transfigured from the table, she stuffed a pillow under his neck hastily. “ _ Sorrysorrysorry _ ,” she muttered. “ _ Diffindo.” _ Her wand sliced through the thin, wet cotton of his shirt and exposed the already bruised skin over his ribs. 

 

Hermione summoned her beaded bag to her side next, shoving her arm in until she was elbow deep. She released a string of uncharacteristic curses until her fingers clasped around the familiar vial of Dittany she carried with her everywhere. She tugged the stopper out and dropped a few drops on his brow, jumping slightly when another roll of thunder shook the tent. 

 

“ _ Tergeo _ .” 

 

She watched as the blood syphoned away, pooling in on itself until his skin was unmarked, save for the pink puckered wound slicing through his right eyebrow. “You might have a scar.” Her voice was timid and when he barked out a harsh laugh she nearly slapped him. 

 

“I’ve got more scarred skin than any other kind. Don’t worry about that.” Charlie shifted his weight uncomfortably and Hermione’s eyes travelled along the expanse of his torso, which was quite literally covered in scars. Some were the silvery remnants of a burn while others looked like clean slices through his skin. 

 

“Where are these from?” Her fingers traced one that clearly once been a gash and the muscles in his abdomen flexed under her feather light touch. Hermione gulped, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks. 

 

“The war,” Charlie said simply, and Hermione’s blush deepened bashfully. She often forget he’d been there too. 

 

“Right. Well, this will hurt. Your sure you don’t want any pain potions?” Hermione asked, her brows raised high on her forehead, baring her teeth in uncertainty.

 

“They’ll make me loopy. Just help me take my belt off, I’ll need something to bite down on.” 

 

With sure fingers, Hermione pulled on the length of his belt and loosened it from his body, sliding it through his belt loops as her fingers brushed the hair under his belly button. 

 

Charlie slid it between his teeth and nodded firmly at her. 

 

With a wrinkle of her nose, she raised her wand. “ _ Episkey”  _

 

_ Crack. _

 

_ “Episkey.” _

 

_ Crack.  _ This one followed by a guttural groan and Hermione’s lips pressed together as she cast the final one. “ _ Episkey!” _

 

Charlie heaved in desperate breaths, ripping the leather from his mouth and clawing at his newly healed ribs. 

 

“Are you okay?” Hermione grimaced. 

 

“I’ll be fine, Duckie.” His eyes fluttered closed, while hard rain pelted the sides of the tent and she felt herself relax just a little. 

 

Sitting back on her haunches, she watched him with a worried scowl. As much as she was loathed to admit it, he was really quite handsome. He differed so much from Ron and the other Weasley’s that had he not claimed the same bright shock of crimson hair and icy blue eyes, she might have thought he was a distant cousin, rather than their brother. 

 

She took the opportunity to let her eyes wander the expanse of his exposed chest in more detail. He wasn’t as freckled as she imagined, other than his shoulders, which were dotted  like the night sky. His chest was hard, with a downy covering of ruby chest hair spread across the center of his pectorals and disappeared as his ever present abdominals took over her trance. 

 

Further down, a trail of curly hair from his belly disappeared into his thick khaki hiking trousers, along with thick cuts at his hips. 

 

Hermione felt an insatiable longing inside her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for quite some time. With his face not screwed up in a cocky smirk, he looked almost…  _ sweet _ . 

 

She murmured a charm to dim the light from the sole lantern and felt her heart hammering in her ribs. Still drenched from the rainstorm, she shimmied out of her shorts and called on the courage of the lioness that she swore still lived inside her. She slid into the spot next to him, carefully avoiding his bruised ribs and perching on her elbow next to him, ignoring the way he tensed at her sudden proximity.

 

Her lips found his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the first patch of freckles, then again just a little higher up near his clavicle, and her tongue darted out to feel the ridge of a silvery scar that stretched from his jaw to just under his collarbone. Charlie stirred, blinking in the low light of the tent and she peeked up at him, his eyes darkening as her thigh pressed against him. 

 

“Duckie...” He nearly growled his hand coming up to grip the flesh at her hip. “I thought you said no strenuous activity.” 

 

Hermione peppered another kiss in the hollow of his throat and swung her leg over his lap, sitting gingerly across his growing erection and hovering over his – now minor – injury. 

 

“Don’t worry.” She whispered, a fierce blush staining her skin. “I’ll do all the strenuous work.” 

 

Charlie moaned as his hand dug into her sides, pushing her down on his lap where his member pressed into her. Hermione tried to hide the shaking in her fingers as she worked the buttons of her white button up, letting it slide off her shoulders and tossing it on the ground next to them. 

 

Hermione really wasn’t one for fancy underthings; it’d had never been a priority in her life, and as his eyes raked over her simple bralet, she felt no remorse over it. His flat palm slid up the plane of her stomach and through the valley of her breasts, finally landing at the nape of her neck and he tugged her mouth down to his. 

 

The kiss was leagues different than what it had been the night before. His lips moved soft and purposefully against hers; his rough touch moving freely over her smooth skin, sending shivers across her body until she whimpered in his open mouth. 

 

Without forethought, her hips began rocking against him, and both of their breathing picked up in unison until they were panting against each other. 

 

She sat tall, her eyes half lidded and glazed in lust and her fingers slid down the taut lines of his torso, fussing with the buttons on his trousers before remembering the spell. 

 

_ “Evansco.”  _ Even though she was the one to cast it, she gasped at sudden feeling of his warm skin against hers, his sex only separated from her by the thin cotton of her knickers. 

 

“Cheeky witch.” Charlie smirked up at her and she grinned as he cast it in return. 

 

Hermione panicked briefly, but who wouldn’t? She was about to sleep with her ex-boyfriend’s older brother and that should at least be met some degree of hesitation she reasoned with herself. 

 

But when his hand palmed at the flesh of her breast and his thumb slid across her pert nipple, the moment passed. The feeling of her crease wetting him, made her mouth fall open. Charlie never paused his fondling of her breast with one hand, while the other groped at the curve of her hip. 

 

She lifted up, poising his cock it at her entrance. Slowly,  _ very slowly,  _ she sank down, letting her eyes flicker closed and her breath pant as she filled herself with all of him. It had been quite some time since she’d done this particular activity and the thickness of him stretched her, the sensation bordering somewhere between pleasure and pain. 

 

When he was hilted inside her, her gaze fell on his face, heated and wanton, and both of his hands gripped her hips and rolled her against his lap while still inside her. Her head fell back, raindrops from her curls still sliding down her spine and she made soft whimpering breaths to the ceiling. 

 

Charlie groaned, digging his fingers into her and rocking her back and forth in time with the rain outside their tent. “Fucking hell. You’re gorgeous, do you know that?” Charlie praised her, muttering incoherent nothings about her. 

 

Hermione lifted up once more, dropping down onto him and relishing the delectable moan from the the man underneath her, the man who’d just saved her life. She did it again, although this time her kneecap bumped into the bruise on his side and he winced. 

 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” She rushed, stilling her movements and fussing over him. 

 

“I don’t care if bloody kills me, Duckie. Don’t stop.” With a forceful hand, he pushed her back onto him, tugging her down until he could capture her mouth in his, his teeth grazing her lip as his tongue matched the movements of his hips driving into her again and again. 

 

Hermione felt the walls of her sex quicken around him and his hands moved to cradle her face, catching her by the back of the neck. He pressed her forehead to his as they continued this frenzied rhythm. 

 

“Charlie,” she moaned, against his lips. “I’m going to—”

 

“Say it again,” he growled, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone as his mouth trailed hot kisses along her jaw and throat. 

 

“Ch-Charlie,” she stuttered, feeling the beginning of her orgasm take over. 

 

He moved quickly, his hands encouraging her to sit up. He took control of her hips until she was riding out her orgasm in time with his thrusts. Her own hands shot up, winding in her curls and covering her mouth as she crested. Simultaneously, his hips drove up into her, and Charlie’s mouth fell open as he filled her once more, a hand reaching up to fondle her bouncing breast.  

 

Hermione collapsed on top of him, again knocking into his ribs. She cursed and begrudgingly moved off him, onto the far side away of his injury, muttering a string of apologies. 

 

“Please don’t apologise for anything that just happened. You just made one of my biggest fantasies come true. You could stand up and kick me in the ribs and I’d still be a puddle at your feet.” Charlie smirked, still panting from their romp, she slapped playfully at his chest, before letting her fingers play with the course curls spread there. 

 

“We probably just made things very complicated by doing that.” Hermione frowned in the darkness.

 

Charlie’s fingers traced long, lazy lines down her bare back and she nestled deeper into the crook of his arm, letting herself be lulled to sleep by the warmth of the man next to her and the endless rain outside. 

 

_ Yes. Very complicated, indeed.  _

* * *

  
  


**A/N: Biggest of shouts out and bow downs to MHCalamas for being my sweet Alpha/Beta! You’re da bessssst!**

 

**If you are reading this and also happen to be reading Sweetly Broken, it was nominated for the Granger Enchanted Awards this year for Best Angst! SAY WHAAA!! It’s been nominated next to some seriously incredible pieces and I have zero intention of walking away with anything other than a “hell yeah, I’m a finalist!”**

 

**_But,_ ** **you should head over and vote! Doesn’t have to be me for I know I speak for all the authors who have made it to this round when I say it means the world to us!**

 

**The final chapter of Duckie will be sent off to beta tonight and as soon as it’s returned to me, I will have it to you! Thanks for coming along on this little silly ride with Charmione and me!**

 

**Xo - LK**

  
  



	3. Down Duckie

Hermione could imagine there were women out there who woke up beautifully, hair splayed gently over their pillow, all pink cheeked and lips parted. She could even imagine the way their adoring wizards would peek through sleepy lids and watch those women in admiration. 

 

She had to _ imagine _ these scenes, because in her very limited experiences, every wizard who had woken up next to here did so with an amused smirk on his face while taking in the nest of wild curls that somehow grew in the night like a nocturnal beast. 

 

This morning was no different. Because  _ of course _ , it wasn’t. 

 

Hermione yawned, reaching her arms up high over her head and stretched the sleep from her bones. It wasn’t a dainty little yawn, but a howl that ended in a shiver shimmying up her spine. When her head lulled to the side, and as she realised she was bare breasted and sharing a cot with Charlie Weasley, the resounding shriek was enough to scare a Niffler from a Gringotts Vault. 

 

“Morning, Duckie.” Charlie’s grin nearly split his face in two as his finger lifted to drag an invisible line from the hollow at her throat and down the valley of her breasts. 

 

Hermione swatted at him with an affronted brow, and scrambled to cover her chest with the threadbare blanket draped over their waists. 

 

“Are you getting shy now? It’s a little late for that,” Charlie cooed with a scrunched nose. He rolled on top of her, caging her between his forearms and staring down at her with all that admiration she’d imagined most witches woke up to. 

 

“I’m not shy,” she scowled. “I’m just naked. And you’re… well, you’re  _ Charlie.”  _

 

“Lucky duck,” he smirked and tugged the blanket from her grasp and for some unknown reason, she let him. 

 

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as his gaze travelled down her body and one hand slid down her side, catching the back of her knee and hitching it on the sturdy bone at his hip. “We really shouldn’t,” she breathed, her chest heaving. His lips dipped down and latched onto the thin skin at the base of her jaw. “Dragons. Treasure. Things of that nature.” 

 

Charlie’s hands skimmed her hip bone and traced a curling line to her centre, dipping into her wetness. “They can wait, yeah?” He smiled against her flesh. 

 

Hermione whimpered as his fingers sank into her, curling inside her and her lower back arched off the cot to meet him. 

 

This was wrong. It  _ had _ to be wrong. She knew this, because nothing that felt this good could be anything but sinful. 

 

“Last night,” she panted, “It was just a one-off. We shouldn’t be doing th—  _ Ooooooh.” _

 

“Then tell me to stop, Duckie.” His voice vibrated against her throat and she clenched her eyes shut as his erection pressed against her thigh. 

 

A few seconds passed and when she said nothing, she felt him smirk before he left a kiss on her collarbone, withdrawing his fingers from her and settling between her thighs. 

 

He sank into her painfully slowly, filling her inch by inch. Everything felt different in the light of morning, and now, trapped between his arms as he studied her face, her eyes flickered closed in a rush of sensation. 

 

He pumped into her, hitching her knee up higher and sliding against a spot inside her that made her gasp. His fingers found her breasts, kneading and tugging at her nipples until she was moaning. 

 

His touch was different now that his injury had vanished and his skilled hands roamed over her with a desperate need. Her hands slid across the ruby smattering of chest hair between his pecks and settled on his shoulders as he thrust into her; one hand sliding between them to rub her clit. 

 

“Charlie,” she whimpered, her fingers threading through his hair and tugging lightly. 

 

At the sound of his name on her lips he collapsed on top of her, burying himself inside her deeper still. Hermione’s whimpers turned to moans as the walls of her sex quickened and clenched down on him. 

 

His mouth latched onto her shoulders, trailing to the tops of her breasts all while his hands gripped the flesh of her bum. As she found her release, he let out a strangled groan and followed her, as if he had simply been waiting for the cry of her orgasm to fill the tent so he could. 

 

He slowed on top of her, his breath labored as their chests bumped together. 

 

“Damn, Duckie,” he panted and she bit back a smile as she stared at the ceiling of their tent.

* * *

 

 

Hermione stumbled from the tent, buttoning her chambray shirt and tucking it in her shorts with clumsy fingers. Blinking frantically, she studied the space they’d landed in and upon seeing it fresh light, she froze. 

 

Absently, she heard Charlie emerge from the tent, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn from the sight over the cliff. Rows upon rows of evergreen trees fringed the hills below her.

 

She couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight in all the world.

 

Charlie stood next to her, flicking his chin to toss the air out of his eyes while buttoning his trousers. She tore her eyes from the horizon when she noticed he’d conveniently left his shirt in the tent. 

 

“Do you do that on purpose?” She rolled her eyes. 

 

“What?”

 

Hermione offered him a withering glare. “You’re somehow always without your shirt.”

 

“Oh. That.” He smirked, flexing his muscles in her direction. “It’s freeing, Duckie. You should it. Maybe now?” His thick brow arched at her and she shoved him away from her, turning back to the sprawling landscape at their feet. 

 

“It’s no wonder you love Romania. It’s breathtaking.” Hermione spoke with reverence. “I could get used to views like this.” 

 

“So could I.” 

 

She peeked over to find him staring at her, his eyes dancing with playful mischief. “You’re ridiculous.  _ And _ half naked. We need to get started on the day; you’ve distracted me quite enough.”

 

Charlie’s brow pulled together and he clutched her into a familiar embrace, capturing her in a quick kiss before pulling back to stare at her. “Look at you. Ready to take on a Dragon before breakfast. Who could ever think you belonged anywhere other than Gryffindor?”

* * *

 

Her shoes slid in the wet mud as she traversed down the steep slope of the mountain, and one time too many she caught her hands on the vines covering the side of the mountain to keep her from rolling down like a wheel. 

 

“Come on, Duckie.” Charlie reached his open palm for hers and with an annoyed groan, she took it, sighing when her feet hit level ground. With a flick of her wand, she vanished the mud from her boots and shins. 

 

Charlie studied her, his brows pulled low. “Remember, move quickly. Make decisions and stick to them. The time it takes you to second guess yourself could be the difference between life and death.”

 

Hermione nodded as he spoke, trying to plan out her movements in any possible situation that she might find herself in. She hoped some of it would come back like a muscle memory. There had been times when her instincts had saved her life; here’s hoping they would again. She filled her mind with spells that might prove useful, silently categorizing them according to what she was most likely to need. 

 

“If we are in a place that we can cast simultaneously – which is near impossible – there is a spell that can lull a dragon into sleep. It requires a great deal of magic and I normally wouldn’t attempt it with just the two of us, but on the off chance it presents itself, it’ll be good to know. The wand movement is like this,” he instructed, taking a dueling stance and flourishing his wand in a large circle before piercing it with the tip of his wand. “ _ Reliquanium.”  _

 

Hermione mimicked his stance, and perfectly recreated the wand movements. That, of course, that didn’t stop Charlie from positioning his body behind her. His hand trailed up her side and down her forearm and he pressed his body into her. 

 

“You’re a fast learner,” he mumbled into her curls before sweeping them off her neck, planting a kiss under her ear. 

 

“Yes, well, I normally don’t have an obnoxious wizard feeling me up when I’m learning new spells. I’d be much quicker if you stopped.” She thrust her bum into him suddenly, knocking him off balance,earning a laugh from deep in his belly. 

 

They hiked the remainder in near silence, while Hermione’s nerves mounted with every passing minute. Her previous experiences with dragons really hadn’t lent her much time to prepare or overthink the situation. This alternative was dreadful. 

 

Before long, they rounded the cliffside where the mouth of the cave appeared and Hermione took a fortifying breath as they pulled their wands. 

 

“There’s a chance she’s sleeping. Keep quiet and remember what I told you, yeah?” For the first time since she’d arrived, Charlie looked worried. His usually clear blue eyes were clouded and dark and his mouth was pulled into a tight line. 

 

“We got this, right?” Hermione said, assuring herself more than anything. 

 

“We got this, Duckie.”

 

They moved silently into the cave, and Hermione’s gaze flickered back and forth from the dark space in front of them to her feet, careful to avoid rocks or dips that might cause her to stumble. There was a thrumming of water echoing off the slated walls of the cave and she was sure that if she listened close enough, her heartbeat could be heard too. 

 

Charlie led them, moving with a feral grace that reminded her of a cat. Hermione felt a stab of jealousy watching him as he slid from step to step with his wand at his side. She could plausibly assume that he didn’t suffer the same crippling insecurities Hermione often did. 

 

Each step carried them deeper into the belly of the cave and her eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, though she still wished she had a  _ lumos _ or a lantern to ease the strain. 

 

“Duckie,” Charlie whispered, and pointed towards the running water at their feet. She stepped next to him and followed his instruction; her breath leaving her in a sharp huff when her eyes settled on the shiny golden coins inches beneath the waters surface. 

 

She knelt, plucking a coin from the water and examining it. 

 

“Does this mean we’re in the right place?” She peeked up at him and found that he was staring further into the cave, his mouth hanging open slightly. 

 

“I definitely think it means we are in the right place.” 

 

The adrenaline coursing through her surged as her eyes focused on the mounds of glittering gold and sparkling gemstones thirty feet in front of them. Running water poured from the rock, pooling in the center with the treasure was piled. 

 

“Oh my god,” she breathed, dropping the coin in the water with a  _ plunk. _

 

“Have you ever seen anything like this in your life?” he asked in a low voice, entranced.

 

“Yes,” she gulped, remembering the gemini curse of Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. “But it doesn’t compare.” 

 

From the darkness, two glowing white spheres appeared and Hermione blinked as she studied them, taking a few steps forward. “Are those the orbs?” she mused. 

 

“No.” Something about the timber of his voice, sent a chill rushing across her skin and she whipped around to study his face. “That’s  _ her _ . If she flames, duck. If she steps out, cast the spell. She sees us.” His adam apple bobbed in his throat with a final gulp and with her wand trembling in her hand, Hermione turned back towards the dragon laying in wait. 

 

The moment stretched on for far too long; that or the lethal cocktail of fear and adrenaline in her system slowed time altogether. 

 

It was just a spark, just a barely there light that bloomed and surged forward. Crimson fire swelled violently in the confined space and Hermione leapt for a nearby boulder, crouching behind it. 

 

Charlie slammed into her, pressing her further into the rock with his back and casting a powerful bubble shield around them and the surrounding rock. Fire pelted against it and Hermione could feel the heat of it on her skin. 

 

As quickly as the fire storm had appeared, it vanished. The hot rock and Hermione’s panting the only evidence of its existence. 

 

Charlie’s rough hands gripped her arms and spun her until her back was pressed against the boulder. Hermione stiffened as she heard the grating of the dragons talons against rock.“She’s about to get pissed,” he rushed. “The shrieks will make your ears bleed in this small of a space – literally. I’m going to muffle the noise, but you won’t be able to hear me very well, okay?” 

 

Hermione nodded frantically, her eyes blown wide as she searched the darkness, waiting for the white eyes to appear in the darkness again. 

 

“Look for my signal to cast or run, Duckie.” The concern painted plainly on Charlie’s face sobered her and she felt her throat tighten uncomfortably as tears welled in her eyes. When he lifted his wand to her ear, she nearly stopped him. She couldn’t lose two senses. Her sight was compromised by the cave and now she’d be deafened by his spell but before she could speak, the ambient noise was dulled. 

 

Charlie cast on himself and then made some intricate hand signals that she couldn’t understand and she scowled at him as he did so. This was  _ exactly _ the sort of thing that would have been helpful to know  _ before _ they found themselves in the dragon's lair. 

 

He broke into swift movement and she followed close on his heels, hugging the wall towards the opening. 

 

Once at the edge of the clearing, Hermione caught sight of the giant beast as it slid from its hiding spot beyond the rock. It was nothing like the dragons she’d seen during the Triwizard Tournament; nor the emaciated and nearly blind creature in the belly of Gringotts, although there were some stark similarities between the two. 

 

This dragon was magnificent to behold: sparkling opal skin and iridescent pearly eyes that seemed as if they saw everything and nothing simultaneously. Her mind ran through the research she’d done prior to starting this doomed expedition. 

 

_ Antipodean Opaleye: Native to New Zealand, has since migrated but prefers valleys and mountains when choosing a nest. _

 

That’s it. That’s all she’d written about their new adversary and she mentally berated herself for not having looked more thoroughly into the different breeds. Perhaps if she had she would have more clues to its strengths and weaknesses. 

 

Charlie whipped back to face her, his mouth in a firm line and he pointed just near the dragon’s tail. A chest of glistening stones nestled in the curl of her tail and with a sharp gesture, he commanded her to stay put and then pointed strangely to his back. Before she could object, Charlie took off like a snitch. He sliced through the air and when the dragon turned on him, Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. 

 

She didn’t have time to think as she shot out behind him, casting  _ Bombarda _ near the opposite cave wall in an attempt to distract the dragon from Charlie’s sharp movements. 

 

Even through the muffled sound of the spell, the shriek that filled the cave brought Hermione to her knees in the shallow water filling the room. She clawed at her ears, her screams joining the dragons cry until it finally ended. 

 

Everything to follow happened as in a haze: Charlie and the Dragon froze, both of their gazes locked on her and she raised her wand towards the Dragon, despite Charlie’s frantic arm waving behind her. The nostrils of the winged beast flared, small puffs of smoke appearing with every breath. 

 

Her heart slammed against her ribs and she remembered Charlie’s instructions.  _ Move quickly and with purpose. Don’t hesitate. Watch the tail. _

 

Her instincts took over and she ran on clumsy feet towards the back wall of the cave, water splashing up to soak her as she did. There were several tunnels that she could dart in if needed for cover and a large ledge that dropped off near the stones.

 

_ Get the orbs. Get in a safe spot. Get out.  _

 

Those were the only objectives now and before she could reach the chest, she noticed Charlie’s wand pointed at her, an angry snarl on his face. She felt his magic strike her chest and it left her breathless as it lifted and shot her sharply to the left. In the air, she felt the whoosh of the dragon's tail narrowly miss her, landing sharply where she had been running just moments before. 

 

She landed in a clatter of gold coins and rock, feeling the crunch of several bones as she rolled and toppled over the ledge on the back wall. Her wand fell from her grasp and she clutched the edge of the cliff with shaking fingers. 

 

Hermione’s nails clawed into the gravely rock as she tried to pull herself up and she spied her wand just inches from her. Her guttural scream fell on deaf ears as Charlie fought the dragon just feet from where she struggled to pull herself up. 

 

The dragon’s tail sliced yet again through the air, hitting a pile of coins and gems that went flying through the air. When they slammed into her face and hands, her grasp gave out and she stumbled down the steep ledge. Rocks cut into her cheek and arms, and there was a sickening crunch of bone in her ankle as she hit a plateau some fifteen feet down. 

 

Her tumble finally ceased and she laid on her back, coughing through bruised ribs, wiping the blood and dirt from her eyes. With a relieved sigh, sound returned to her ears and she heard Charlie’s voice shout down to her, even though he remained out of sight. 

 

“I’m coming, Duckie! Hold tight!”

 

Groaning, she crawled to the side of the rocky space and rested her back against the water trickling down.

 

“Stupid, no good, rotten Weasley.” With a cough, Hermione clutched at her bruised abdomen, her hands and face were caked with dirt and ash and if she listened hard enough, she thought her breathing might be a bit haggard. “By far my least favorite Weasley,” she reasoned with a firm twitch of her neck, wincing at her strained muscles. She tried to rotate her ankle and gasped as pain surged through the joint. 

 

Above her head, billowing ruby colored flames filled the air and she could feel the heat on her face. 

 

“ _ Charlie!” _ she shouted once the flames had dwindled. “Charlie Weasley!” 

 

Her fingers dug into her side as the pain of her scream stabbed into her flesh, hot tears sliding down her cheeks as she was met with a crushing silence. 

 

Her eyes darted about, searching for something.  _ Anything… _

 

As if on cue, her heart leapt of its own accord when he came into view, riding a burned broomstick. He was somehow grinning as he fought to maintain control of his singed as it sputtered down the side of the ledge. He pulled up hard as he approached her and the balance was compromised and he tumbled the remaining few feet, crashing into her with an  _ oof. _

 

“You idiot!” Hermione slapped at him before wiping happy tears from her face and letting out a broken laugh. 

 

“I told you not to call me that, Duckie.” He smiled, pushing up to sitting and examining her. He didn’t wait for permission as he treated her wounds roughly, and she grit her teeth together to keep from screeching. It was nothing more than a field treatment, not enough to take the pain away but enough that at least her ankle wasn’t shattered and her ribs felt only minorly offended. 

 

Charlie reached into his back pocket and offered her wand, which she snatched greedily, hugging it to her chest like a lost lover. 

 

“I have a solution,” he said firmly, eyes intent on her face. 

 

“Thank goodness,” she breathed in relief. 

 

“It involves fire.” 

 

_ “Absolutely not _ .” Her face narrowed and she could hear the movements of their dragon above their heads. 

 

Charlie chuckled, his perfect teeth flashing in the dim light of the cave. “Opaleyes are scared of fire. Quite ironic, isn’t it? As we exit, I need to you light small  _ Incendios _ behind us, enough to keep her caged in on herself.”

 

“You want me to light the cave on fire, while we are in it, as we fly out a broom that was set on fire twelve hours ago and can barely fly?” Hermione’s eyes were wide in disbelief. Surely she had heard incorrectly and he would present a logical solution any moment. 

 

Charlie’s head tilted back and forth. “Essentially.”

 

“What about the stones, we still have to—”

 

“Forget the stones, Duckie.”

 

“We can’t! That’s the whole reason we’re here. There’s a way, I know there is—”

 

“No.” Hermione’s gaze flickered up to his. “It’s not worth your life. We need a bigger team to get this dragon down and the cave is way smaller than I thought it would be for a dragon that size. We can’t do this alone and if we want a chance at retrieving them at all, we need to be alive to do so. That’s an order, Hermione. Leave the stones.” 

 

Hermione’s jaw set tightly but she nodded in agreement. Charlie pushed to standing and held his hand out for her before tugging her roughly to her feet and sliding his broom between his legs. 

 

With a silent prayer Hermione followed suit, pressing herself into him and wrapping her non-wand arm around his middle. 

 

If she hated brooms before, she hated them exponentially more now as the one they found themselves on barely worked. It jostled them from side to side, it’s speed compromised by the burned bristles behind them. 

 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Charlie called over his shoulder before really taking off. 

 

They rounded the ledge and Hermione spied the dragon, curled in on itself near the far wall. Her scaly features were pulled tight and although no expression was given through her blank eyes, Hermione felt a chill spread through her. 

 

“ _ Incendio.”  _ Hermione cast near the beast’s front claws and for all the dragon’s previous grace, she jumped fearfully away from the flame. The curly haired witch felt a pain settle in her heart as she remembered the traumatised dragon from Gringotts. 

 

“Again, Duckie! She’s fine. Keep casting!” Charlie was shouting as he tried to reign in the broom that wanted to crash them into the sides of the cave. 

 

With a shaking voice, Hermione cast it again and again: caging the dragon in small flames that fizzled quickly without anything to latch onto. She couldn’t help a final glance at the stones and she bit into her lip, considering how quickly she could summon them to her while maintaining the flames.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Charlie growled, as if he could hear her thoughts. 

 

They were approaching the edge of the cave and her chances were running out. With renewed vigor, she shot out a succession of flames towards the dragon and pointed the tip of her wand towards the stones. 

 

“ _ Accio! _ ” she cried, her screams echoing off the walls. 

 

“Dammit, Duckie!” she heard Charlie grumble as the chest of stones flew through the air. 

 

The flames around the dragon died out and she advanced a few heavy steps towards them, whipping her head from side to side before letting out an ear piercing screech. 

 

Hermione grasped at the chest and the broom buckled under the weight, sputtering and faltering as they crashed into the wet grass just outside the cave. 

 

They whipped towards the entrance as vibrant flames barreled towards them. “ _ Protego! _ ” They cast in unison, their arms raised high to hold the shield in place as the fire crashed against it. Their force eventually lessened, but it was only when they died that Hermione felt confident enough to drop her shield charm and make a mad dash for the scattered stones. She collected, summoned and shrank them with a speed she didn’t know she possessed, storing them in her bag. 

 

“She’s rallying, Duckie,” Charlie called out, an unmistakable edge to his voice and Hermione threw herself in her task until Charlie snatched her wrist. “Time to go!” 

 

Hermione didn’t argue with him as they ran, the ground trembling as the dragon emerged from its nest. 

 

Their hands locked and in a swirl of magic, they Disapparated, appearing on the ledge above the cave where they had the spent the night. As their feet planted into the soft soil, they saw the Opaleye take off into flight, it’s cries echoing off the mountains. Hermione stumbled back as the whoosh of air from the dragon's wings slammed into her, a wave of relief surging through her body. 

 

Charlie turned on her, shaking his head at her and sucking on his tongue. “I told you to forget about the stones.” 

 

Hermione shrugged, chest heaving. “I knew I could do it. So I did.” 

 

He snorted, rolling his eyes and walking up to wrap his arms around her waist. “You’re crazy.” 

 

“Maybe,” she smiled, lifting onto her toes to place a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now–” Hermione held her bag up for inspection. “–The fun part.” 

 

“What? This wasn’t  _ fun _ ?” He scoffed as if she’d offended him. 

 

“Hardly. But returning a child’s magic? That is my kind of fun.” Hermione’s eyes sparkled as she peeked in the bag, small glittering pebbles staring back at her. 

 

* * *

  
**EPILOGUE**

* * *

 

  
  


Hermione grinned from where she stood at the side of the village center. She was leaning against a little wobbly house with her arms crossed in front of her, staring at the Romanian Minister of Magic as he held out a glittering stone. The girl who reached out to touch it couldn’t have been more than ten. She had wide curious brown eyes and a shaking hand and when her fingertips brushed the stone surface, she bristled as her magic surged into her for the first time. The child’s toothy grin as it spread across her face while she stared at her hand, now laced with magic. 

 

It made everything,  _ everything _ , worth it. 

 

“You’re incredible, you know?” Charlie’s voice in her ear made her jump and she swatted at the burly wizard behind her. 

 

“I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing around her face and she returned her gaze to the commotion in the center of the village. “Will the dragon be alright?” 

 

“We have a team ready to get back up there in a few weeks and extricate her. She’ll be placed in the sanctuary until we can release her near somewhere more heavy with magic. She’ll be alright, Duckie.” 

 

Hermione groaned and tore her eyes from the line of people ready to retrieve their magic. “You’ve seen me naked. You can’t call me ‘Duckie’ anymore.” 

 

“I think  _ because _ I’ve seen you naked, I should be able to call you ‘Duckie’.” His smug grin as his eyes slid down her  _ very clothed _ body made her teeth grind. 

 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

 

“Yes, I do know that. Besides, I tried to tell you before, Duckie doesn’t mean what you think it does.” His hands twisted behind her lower back and he tugged her until they were bumping chests. 

 

Hermione was still unamused as she arched a brow up at him. “What does it mean then, if I may ask?”

 

Charlie’s face dipped down next to her ear, his breath brushing the curls against her neck and causing her to giggle. “Duckie means someone innocent. Someone I want very much to corrupt with my wicked,  _ wicked _ ways.” His hand slid down to squeeze her bum as he spoke and the curly haired witch in his arms felt a fevered blush spread across her chest and neck. 

 

She laughed, pushing him away from her and pursing her lips as she turned back to the stones. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Well, you’re still my Duckie.” His arms wrapped around her once more, his chin settling on her shoulder as they watched on together. “So, back to the belly of the Ministry for you then, Unspeakable Granger?”

 

Hermione’s lips pulled into a crooked smile and she rested back into him. “No, actually. I put in my resignation. After chasing a dragon down, it’d be horribly bland to return to my desk.”

 

He tensed behind her. “You can’t  _ resign _ from being an Unspeakable.” 

 

“Sure you can. I have to forfeit some of my memories about the department and I had to sign some non-disclosure agreements… but, it’s done.”

 

“Well, if anyone can– Hermione Granger can.” He laughed into her curls. “What’ll you do next?”

 

“This.” She nodded to the children practicing their magic on a pile of rocks. “I approached the Romanian Ministry about creating a position to assist the new magical generation get acclimated and learn basics. I’ll be helping set up a formal education system —”

 

“You’re staying?” Charlie gaped, turning her in his arms once more and shaking her slightly. 

 

Hermione’s laughter trilled through the air and she pressed a kiss against his lips. “Apparently.” 

 

“Ohhh, Duckie,” he purred, a smug smirk spreading across his features. “You better break the news to Ronnie.”

 

“What news?”

 

“That you’re  _ my _ witch. He’ll hex me. This sorta thing is better coming from the gentler sex—”

 

“ _ Gentler? _ And who said anything about me being your witch?”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

Hermione stamped her foot into the dirt and Charlie barked out a laugh. “You can’t claim me like that. As punishment, you will tell  _ Ronnie. _ ” 

 

“Not bloody likely.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Together, then. If I decide not to hex you myself first.” 

 

He wrapped her in a hug, laying a kiss on her shoulder that he chased with the wetness of his tongue. “Together.”

* * *

 

**A/N: Welp, there it is! Just something short and hopefully sweet (and a little spicy)! Neverending, thanks to MHCalamas my alpha/beta darling for Duckie. You are one of a kind. Thank you!**

 

**Prompts from Frecklesandbroomsticks and Mamapotterhead: 1. Lost in the Romanian Forest and Charlie has to save her. 2. “I have a solution.” “Thank goodness.” “It involves fire…” “Absolutely not.”**

 

**Thank you for reading and I’d love to know your thoughts!**

  
  



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